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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094697">ignorance, a terrible thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb'>kinneyb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:40:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier performs at a tavern, and is met with an unexpected and cruel reaction. Geralt takes care of it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>578</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ignorance, a terrible thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>brief violence but not detailed ~</p>
<p>twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier had been performing at taverns for years without a problem. Sometimes he’d still get booed, even now, but over the years that had mostly died down. Most of the Continent had heard his songs about Geralt, the White Wolf, and felt differently about him now — saw him as less of a monster and more of a hero.</p>
<p>He had no reason to think a small town near the coast would be any different.</p>
<p>Geralt had heard rumors of a siren, taking down sailors, and they’d traveled together to the coast because of it. After renting a room at the local inn, they went their separate ways ---- Geralt, to the ocean, with his swords and Jaskier, with his lute, to the local tavern.</p>
<p>He had been working on a new song about Geralt and his latest hunt for a few weeks and was excited to play it for the first time. Geralt had saved a child during his last hunt; the song had basically written itself, praising Geralt for his bravery and strength.</p>
<p>Jaskier entered the tavern and immediately noticed a tension in the air.</p>
<p>He ignored it, as he always did, and walked to the front of the tavern, stopping by the fireplace. The fire was warm on the back of his legs as he pulled his lute out of his bag. The patrons watched him with mostly blank expressions.</p>
<p>Jaskier frowned, but shook it off. It was a small coast town; most of his songs probably hadn’t reached them. That would be changed tonight.</p>
<p>He strummed the first cord and started to sing about Geralt and his heroics, and the child he had saved — a young girl, who had hugged Geralt afterwards. It had been a sight to see, truly. Geralt had looked shocked at first, wide-eyed, before he slowly returned the hug and looked at Jaskier, something soft and kind in his eyes.</p>
<p>Jaskier had thought one simple thing watching him, and that young child:</p>
<p>
  <em>I love him, and I always will.</em>
</p>
<p>Even the mother of the child had hugged him, thanking him, before gathering her daughter in her arms and running off.</p>
<p>Afterwards, they had camped in the woods and Jaskier had worked on his new song — well, not before Jaskier had crawled between Geralt’s legs and — well, you know.</p>
<p>He had been excited to sing it in front of a crowd albeit a livelier one, because the patrons of this particular tavern were just staring at him, quiet and judging.</p>
<p>Jaskier knew some folks still hated Witchers, and some always would, even with his songs. But he still had to try; it was what Geralt deserved, what Jaskier wanted <em>for </em>him. To be loved and adored. In the beginning, he had simply followed Geralt because he wanted that for <em>himself </em>and knew Geralt was the key to it, but now he wanted it for both of them.</p>
<p>But now, if he had to pick, he would prefer <em>Geralt </em>get the adoration and love. He knew, despite his gruff words, that Geralt wanted to be seen fairly, justly, for what he did and not for what he was.</p>
<p>Jaskier reached the end of the song, sang a little higher, strummed a little faster. The last chorus turned a bit generic, singing about Witchers, in general, and how they were <em>heroes </em>of the world, if humans would only accept them.</p>
<p>That’s when —</p>
<p>“Fucking <em>liar!” </em>one of the patrons finally shouted, and Jaskier faltered, fingers stilling, caught between cords.</p>
<p>And, just like that, the others joined in. One after the next.</p>
<p>“Witchers are all monsters!” a woman shouted, near the back.</p>
<p>“You’re just making crap up, you son of a bitch!” a man yelled, and Jaskier felt something hit him. Looking down, he realized it was a fork. Could’ve seriously injured him.</p>
<p>Jaskier had no interest in finishing. He frowned and tossed his lute to his back, turning to gather his things. He wanted to scream back at them, but he knew that would make no difference — he’d just start a fight he couldn’t finish, not even with the dagger in his boot.</p>
<p>A dagger Geralt had gifted him a few years ago, asking Jaskier to “<em>always </em>put yourself first.”</p>
<p>Footsteps and then, “You running away, you bastard?”</p>
<p>Jaskier stiffened as he turned on his heels. It wasn’t just one man, but a sizable group of them. He noticed, idly, that the women had left. His stomach churned with understanding. This wasn’t going to end well. He wondered if he had time to grab his dagger, to give himself a fighting chance, even as outnumbered as he was.</p>
<p>He dropped his bag — with his lute — to the ground, kicking it out of the way. He could save that, at least.</p>
<p>“I should warn you,” Jaskier began, “you <em>will </em>regret this.”</p>
<p>One of the men laughed, an ugly thing. “Yeah, I don’t think we will,” he snarled. “Just look at you.”</p>
<p>Jaskier tilted his head, slow, eyes dark and dangerous. “Oh, you will,” he assured him. “Not now, but soon.” One of the men pulled his hand back, curled in a fist, and brought it forward. Jaskier didn’t even try dodging it.</p>
<p>He stumbled back, nose burning, and smiled tightly. Fuck.</p>
<p>Before he knew it, one of the other men was charging him. He finally tried dodging, but there was no point. The man punched him in the jaw, and Jaskier heard his teeth clank together, too hard. He fell to the floor, a little dazed, and realized there was blood pouring from the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>“Fucking bastard,” one of the men snarled. “You’ve probably never even <em>met </em>a real Witcher.”</p>
<p>Jaskier looked up through all the pain and the blood and the aching, “Oh, honey, I’ve not only met one,” he said, lowering his voice, “I’ve <em>fucked </em>one.”</p>
<p>It was the truth; Geralt and him had never discussed their relationship, but it had slowly turned physical years ago and neither of them had been against it. Actually, Geralt seemed to enjoy it as much as Jaskier. The man stared at him with disgust.</p>
<p>He pulled his leg back and brought it forward, fast. All Jaskier could think, as he slumped to the floor, was <em>fuck, Geralt is going to be mad.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskier felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, expecting more pain. But then he heard his favorite voice in the word, gruff but kind, “Jaskier, I need you to open your eyes, okay?” Jaskier wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t disappoint Geralt, so he slowly opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering. He noticed, first, that the tavern was dark.</p>
<p>“Wh — ” he started, but Geralt shushed him, “Don’t,” he said, not unkindly. Here.“</p>
<p>Jaskier watched as Geralt lifted a canister of — water, he sniffed — to his mouth. He drank greedily, his throat thanking him. He realized, after, that he was propped in Geralt’s lap. His whole body was aching and, when he licked his lips, he tasted copper.</p>
<p>He looked up at Geralt, and everything about his face was pinched, his eyebrows, his lips. He looked like he was barely restraining himself.</p>
<p>“Go ahead,” he whispered. “I know you want to.”</p>
<p>Geralt brushed a hand through Jaskier’s hair, catching in a knotted mat of blood. His lips trembled with anger. “I will fucking <em>kill </em>them,” he snarled, almost to himself. “Who did this?”</p>
<p>Jaskier smacked his lips, “Just some of the locals,” he said, voice rough. “I — I won’t stop you,” he said, suddenly filled with his own anger. “But not tonight.”</p>
<p>“Jaskier,” he whispered, and Jaskier turned his head, ignoring the pain, burying his face against Geralt’s stomach. He found himself just wanting to sleep again.</p>
<p>“Please, just stay with me,” he asked, muffled and almost shy. “Please, Geralt.”</p>
<p>Geralt combed his fingers through his hair again. “Okay,” he agreed. He stood up, slowly, and cradled Jaskier against his chest. It was awkward, considering Jaskier’s height, but Geralt seemed unfazed. He walked them out of the tavern and to the inn.</p>
<p>Once they were in their room, Geralt laid Jaskier gently on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>Jaskier almost sobbed. He wasn’t actually that badly hurt, he realized, not physically. “Stay.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be <em>right </em>back,” he repeated, firm but gentle. He left the room and returned later with a bucket of water and a rag. He sat on the bed and dipped the rag in the water before bringing it to Jaskier’s face. “This might hurt a little,” he admitted, forever honest.</p>
<p>Jaskier just nodded, wincing slightly when Geralt started cleaning his face. The rag was warm. Geralt had obviously asked the innkeeper for warm water. His heart swelled with fondness for the other man. Geralt wasn’t good with words, but he <em>was </em>a good man. He loved and respected others and protected them, and all he wanted was those same things returned to him.</p>
<p>But he didn’t always get them because some people, still too many, were ignorant and cruel.</p>
<p>“They — they were mad about my latest song,” Jaskier whispered while Geralt continued cleaning his face. There was a stubborn spot near the corner of his mouth he wiped away with his thumb.</p>
<p>Geralt frowned at the information. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Um.” Jaskier swallowed thickly. “They aren’t big fans of… <em>you</em>,” he shrugged. “Or Witchers in general.”</p>
<p>Geralt froze, and Jaskier suddenly wished he could take it all back. “They did this because of me?” he asked gruffly. He slowly started moving again, cleaning a bit of dried blood off Jaskier’s chin. “I’m going to kill them,” he said, unnervingly calm, and not for the first time.</p>
<p>Jaskier reached up and gently took his hand, squeezing it. “You don’t kill humans, remember?”</p>
<p>But that wasn’t exactly true, and he knew it. Geralt looked at him, eyes dark with anger. “I don’t kill them for no reason,” he corrected. “They attacked you like fucking <em>cowards</em>.” Jaskier was surprised to find Geralt’s hand shaking. He squeezed it tighter. “I could kill them and never regret it, Jaskier. I mean it.”</p>
<p>“I know,” he whispered, leaning in. “I — I want them to suffer,” he admitted, and maybe it was cruel of him, but it was the truth. “But don’t kill them, okay?”</p>
<p>Geralt hesitated for a few long beats. “Okay,” he agreed. Then, “Are you tired?”</p>
<p>Jaskier sighed deeply. “Exhausted,” he replied. “Sleep with me?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next morning, Geralt returned to the inn covered in blood, decidedly of the human variety. “We should go,” he said gruffly. Jaskier already had their things packed, including Geralt’s swords, which he had pointedly not taken with him. He gathered them, limping lightly, as he joined Geralt at the door.</p>
<p>Geralt took his bag. Jaskier pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you,” he said. “You didn’t…”</p>
<p>“No,” he replied. “All alive. I made sure of it.”</p>
<p>Pleased, Jaskier walked with him out of the inn. They wouldn't be returning.</p>
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